


In Mutual Weirdness

by yopumpkinhead



Category: A House of Many Doors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/yopumpkinhead
Summary: Your name is Fiona, and you just joined a kinetopede crew.





	In Mutual Weirdness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfraven80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfraven80/gifts).



> I was so excited to see a prompt for this game that I had to write something! Since you mentioned you were still playing, I tried to err on the side of no spoilers. Hope you enjoy!

Your name is Fiona McConnaghe, and this was _not_ what you were expecting when you answered a want ad for a guard captain for intercellular travel.

The kinetopede looms above you, its golden siding dented in places but shining in others - though you think the shining may be as much from being scraped along things as from any deliberate care. Some of the panels have hinges; weapons bays, you’d guess. Its legs end in broad flat paddles, their layers of caked-on mud not quite enough to hide the gripping claws along the bottoms. Its engine chugs idly, and you’d swear the exhaust smells like old books and library dust. 

A red-haired woman leans out of the open hatch and waves at you. “The Captain said to keep an eye out for a new guard captain. I take it that’s you?”

You nod, and she smiles. “Better come on up, then. The Captain should be back shortly, and we’ll be underway soon after.”

{Climb aboard. ➤}

You climb up the ladder and through the hatch. The kinetopede is just as well-worn on the inside as on the outside, its metal floors scuffed and stained, the walls lined with haphazardly-stacked cargo crates, and a handful of scars on the walls evidencing an old battle. Captain Tenebras had mentioned that your predecessor was… not as experienced as he’d claimed, and if he was so incompetent as to allow fighting to reach the inside of the kinetopede, you’re bound to agree. 

The red-haired woman offers her hand. “I’m Chief Engineer Lucetta Quetzl,” she says. “I keep the engine running. You’re a poet-knight, aren’t you?” 

{Agree. ➤  
_You were raised in Fargyle Keep; that’s close enough, right?_ }

“I recommend keeping any of your poetry books out of the engine room, then,” Lucetta says breezily. “The engine gets… hungry.” 

Before you can ask what she means, a weedy young man runs up to her. “Chief Engineer!” he exclaims. “The engine’s losing ink!”

“Oh, dear,” Lucetta says, and shakes her head ruefully. “I’d better see to that.” She points down a short hallway lined with three doors. “Your quarters are just down this way. Don’t mind the explosions - Char’s harmless. Mostly.” Then she bustles off after the young man, swinging through a hatch to the lower decks with ease despite the long dress swirling about her ankles. 

You look around, but there’s not much else to see up here. Time to get settled in, then.

{Examine your quarters. ➤}

The room is spacious for a kinetopede, with plenty of open floor space in which to exercise. It’s been freshly cleaned, though under the scent of soap you can just make out… aftershave and flowery shampoo? Apparently the previous guard captain had a thing for hair care products.

You’ve just finished unpacking when a series of explosions rattles your door in its frame.

{See what’s going on. ➤}

You emerge into the hallway to find the door opposite yours just opening. Smoke pours out into the hall, followed by a soot-stained woman in stained alchemists’ robes. She has red hair, too, but hers is cropped short - or perhaps burned that way, as her eyebrows are thoroughly singed. Beneath them, her eyes have a tinge of darkness around the whites: the sign of a Godsmoke addict. 

She waves a hand to clear the smoke from her face and spots you. “Oh! Hey there, mucker! Sorry ‘bout this. It should clear on its own in a minute.” 

{Ask who she is. ➤}

“Name’s Char Dvetistek,” she says cheerfully. “The Captain brought me on to keep everyone patched up. You must be the new guard captain.” 

{Ask about the explosions. ➤}

She laughs. “Put the wrong reagent in the wrong vial, I did. Happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it. I’ve been doing this for a while - I might blow myself up, but nobody else.”

{Ask why the Captain would trust an explosion-happy Godsmoke addict with keeping the crew alive. ➤}

“Because the Captain’s good people,” she says, and shrugs. She’s trying to look casual, but failing - this is clearly a sore subject for her. “It’s been a while since anyone’s believed in me. I gotta live up to it, right?” 

{Smile and nod to Char. ➤  
_You’re not sure you agree, but you can discuss the matter with the Captain later._ }

Char grins. “Speaking of the Captain, we should head up front. I thought I heard the hatch open.” 

She bustles off, and you follow her back to the hatch. Sure enough, a pair of swabbies are hauling boxes of supplies up through the open hatch, while a third frantically shoves crates aside to make room for the new ones. More of the crew gathers as you wait: a young man with dark skin and a third eye embedded in his forehead; a gorgeous pale-skinned woman in an elegant gown; Lucetta, returned from the engine room with ink smeared up her arms to the elbow; a… you think she’s a woman, slim with blond hair, but she barely looks human. Her left eye is gone, replaced with a disk of green glass. Iron studs jut from her spine out through her shirt, and where her left index finger should be is a sleek iron spike. 

Char leans close to you, one chemical-stained hand pointing discreetly to the young man. “Spire,” she says. “He’s our lookout. Creepy little thing, but harmless enough.” Her finger goes to the pale woman next. “Genevieve Caul, the lightbearer. Careful when you talk to her, she’ll have you telling your life story afore you know it.” 

She points to Lucetta. “Chief engine-grubber. She’s almost as new as you.” Finally the debatably-human blond woman. “Harmony Ricketts. She keeps our records. And no, she weren’t born like that. She’s an _artist_ —” Char’s nose wrinkles skeptically when she says it— “an’ the Captain’s been indulging her runnin’ around and hacking off bits. She won’t let me help her heal, either. Just says the scars’re ‘all part of the process’.” 

As if aware she’s being spoken about, Harmony looks up and meets your eyes.

{Match her stare. ➤  
_Don’t flinch._ }

After a moment, Harmony looks away again. Her expression is bored, disinterested, but you think you see a glimmer of respect in her good eye. 

{Wait for the Captain. ➤}

It’s not long before the swabbies finish hauling up the new cargo. As the last box is dragged off, the ladder rattles and a cloaked figure of indeterminate gender, slim and graceful, face half-hidden beneath a green hood, swings through the hatch. Captain Lux Tenebras strikes a dramatic pose in the middle of the deck, and speaks in a husky voice pitched to carry throughout the halls of the kinetopede: 

“This twisted wood in a river known / The bizarre daughter and the friend who will gleam / Always leave pleasant into bizarre bone / In primeval time, before scepters did dream.” 

You have to hide an excited smile as the poem continues. This is why you chose Captain Tenebras’s ad out of all the others in the paper: _poetry_. If you can convince the Captain to teach you how to write poems like that, perhaps you’ll finally earn your knighthood.

All too soon, the poem ends, the last echoes of the Captain’s voice fading into the dark hallways.

{Join the crew’s applause. ➤}

Captain Tenebras smiles and waves a hand languidly, acknowledging the crew’s appreciation. Genevieve Caul glides across the floor to place a hand on the Captain’s shoulder, leaning in close. Her voice is low and sultry when she says, “A lovely poem, Captain.” 

“Only the best poetry for such a lovely crew,” the Captain answers. A gloved hand curls around Genevieve’s waist, the touch just a bit too intimate, and Genevieve sighs dreamily. 

“Oh, just _kiss_ already,” Char mutters under her breath.

“We have a betting pool,” Lucetta says to you, equally quietly. “How long it’ll be before those two finally stop flirting and get together.” 

“Want in, mucker?” Char asks with a grin. Across the room, the Captain and Genevieve make eyes at each other.

{Refuse. ➤  
_Poet-knights are supposed to be above such petty bets._ }

“Your choice,” Lucetta says, and shrugs. 

The Captain finally releases Genevieve and addresses the whole crew once more. “Pack up, lords, ladies, and untold horrors of the dark! We’ve a passenger needs passage to the Chimeric Empire, and along the way we need to find a couple golems in good enough shape to trade. Oh, and we’ll drop off some old Mycenae relics while we’re at it.” The Captain claps green-gloved hands sharply. “Step to it, my darlings!” 

The crew bursts into motion, and you join them. It’s time to do the job you were hired for.

{Head belowdecks. ➤  
_You want to round up the crewmen who can use a weapon and see what you’re working with. }_

__

You’re headed down to the lower deck when Harmony stops you. Seen up close, her false eye is even more unsettling: half-functional gears click sadly behind the green glass, and your warped reflection looks back at you warily. Harmony says, “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who isn’t interested in betting.” 

__

{Say that it seems uncouth to bet on your captain’s romantic prospects. ➤}

__

Harmony doesn’t smile, but something in her expression lightens. “I’m not sure ‘couth’ is a word that can be applied to most of this crew,” she tells you. 

__

{Ask why she’s here, if she doesn’t like the crew. ➤}

__

“The Captain’s helping me with my latest artistic endeavor,” she says, and spreads her arms, giving you a good look at her mutilated body. “I intend to prove the beauty in abomination. Not many folk have the stomach for such advanced art, but the Captain’s been very accommodating.” 

__

{She’s using the present tense. Ask if her project is not yet completed. ➤}

__

“Far from it,” she says. “This—” she gestures to her glass eye with her iron-spiked hand— “is only the beginning. The Captain agreed to stop in Harlequin while we’re in Chimer. I intend to hire a humorist to make my most complex alterations yet.” 

__

{That’s… unsettling. ➤}

__

Harmony smiles faintly. “It’s _art_. I’m sure a poet-knight can appreciate that much.” 

__

{Admit that you were always much better at the intricacies of combat than the intricacies of poetry. ➤}

__

“Combat is art, too,” Harmony says. “Art in blood, art in the abominable contortions of death.” 

__

It’s an interesting viewpoint, one you think you’d like to hear more of. But the low rumble of the kinetopede’s engine is rising to an energetic pitch, and the floor under your feet vibrates as the great legs begin to move. You really need to make sure your guard crew is prepared before the kinetopede leaves the relative safety of the City. 

__

{Ask if Harmony would like to come by your quarters later for a cup of tea and a chat about art. ➤}

__

Harmony studies your face for a moment, then nods. “I’m always interested in discussing my ideas with a fellow artist,” she says. “I’ll stop by after I’ve finished writing up the new cargo manifest.” 

__

With a wave of her spiked hand, she heads off toward the cargo hold. You watch her go, then turn your attention to the hatch belowdecks. Captain Tenebras and the crew might be a strange bunch, but as one of your poetry tutors used to say, it’s in the strangest things that one finds the most exquisite poetry. 

__

You think you’ll get along quite well here. 

__


End file.
